


What Lies Beneath

by Silver_Moon_Lit_Forest



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:30:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Moon_Lit_Forest/pseuds/Silver_Moon_Lit_Forest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has been dealing with his migraines and their resulting sickness on his own for years. His parents had tried to help when he was a child, but they had done more bad than good. And that bad was still with him after all those years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Lies Beneath

**Author's Note:**

> Another kinkmeme prompt. Doing these are addicting. I really hope you guys don't mind Clint/Tony spam. I just can't help myself.
> 
> Prompt: Tony's had headaches/migraines ever since he was a kid. One of the fixes his parents had tried was getting him a masseur, and as is sometimes the case massage didn't help at all, only made it worse.  
> So when Any sees him suffering and offers a massage, he quietly freaks the hell out.  
> Up to you how the situation and the headache are resolved. Does Any convince him to try it again and if so does it work this time? Does Tony just end up medicated and curled up in Any's lap while they stroke his hair? Do they try and kiss him better instead? Absolutely anything is awesome. =D (Would prefer no outright sex, though.)
> 
> http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/17385.html?thread=38770153#t38770153

Tony pressed his face into a pillow and effectively blocked out all light. He had been in his workshop when he’d felt a migraine starting. He’d known he’d been down there too long, that he should have stopped and came up for food and some well deserved sleep, but he’d been so close to finishing up his latest project that he just pushed through the fatigue. Now he was paying for it.

He hadn’t even made it to his room. By the time he’d made it up to the communal living area, his head had been pounding and the arc reactor was a heavy aching weight in his chest. Each breath sent shocks of pain through his midsection and that only seemed to make the migraine worse. So instead of heading for the elevator like he’d originally planned to, he’d walked to the couch and flopped down face down on it.

From there it had only gotten worse. It was always like this, always a searing pain behind his eyes and a fever was never far behind.The ache where the reactor sat was new, nothing he couldn’t deal with, but that didn’t make the pain any less.

It hurt to even move so he made no effort to shift and lift his face from the couch cushion when he heard the elevator ding loudly. The noise made him wince and that made his head throb. He groaned quietly, hands fisting and he pressed his face harder into the couch until he could barely breath.

He tracked the sound of footsteps across the room and to the couch where they stopped beside him. The person had barely made a sound, but with his current oversensitivity, each light step had been loud in his ears. So Clint or Natasha, but Natasha was supposed to be out with Thor and Steve, who would have been on the elevator with her if they had returned. So Clint it was.

“Tony?” The concern in his voice made Tony almost flinch. Clint had never actually seen him when he was sick, Tony recalled suddenly. In the seven months Tony had lived in the tower with the rest of the Avengers, Tony had managed to avoid the others when he’d gotten a migraine. His usual hide in the bedroom and not come out till it had passed worked quite well. None of them knew about the fact that he got migraines regularly, not even Bruce. They rarely lasted more than a few days and they were all used to him hiding away in his workshop for days at a time. He thought Bruce was starting to catch on to him, but he hadn’t confronted Tony about it yet.

He grunted in response, not bothering to move. He listened to Clint shift his weight onto one foot and could suddenly appreciate how silently the assassin could move. Even with his over sensitive hearing at the moment, the small movement barely even registered.

Tony honestly expected the archer to leave after a few long minutes of silence. They might have a bit of a thing going on between them- did four dates count as dating?- but Tony hadn’t expected him to sit down on the edge of the couch beside him and start carding his fingers through Tony’s hair.

A small groan was muffled by the couch and Tony leaned into the soft touch as much as he could without lifting his face from the couch. He shifted closer to Clint so his side pressed against the warmth of Clint’s back. It had been years since Tony had let anyone touch him when he was sick and it felt better than he expected. He relaxed slowly, letting Clint touch him until Tony was as boneless as he could be with a fever setting in against his skin and a migraine pounding against his eyes and temples.

They sat in silence for a long time until Clint finally spoke.

“How often do you get headaches?” Tony figured he should be surprised. He’d never spoken to anyone but Pepper and Rhodey about his headaches. If everything had gone his way, they would have never known in the first place. But Rhodey had found him hiding in his dorm during college with a fever of 105 F. Tony remember how scared Rhodey had looked when the thermometer had beeped. He’d never seen such a terrified look on his friend’s face since then. And Pepper, well, he’d never been able to hide anything from her. It just wasn’t done.

He turned his face to the side and all but whimpered when the light from the summer New York sun was like a solar flair against his eyelids. Clint’s hand was instantly over his eyes, blocking out the light again as he softly asked JARVIS to dim the lights and blackout the windows. Tony’s thank you was more a jumble of syllables than actual words.

When the room was dark, Clint went back to stroke his fingers through Tony’s hair. Tony took a moment to enjoy the complete silence of the room except for the soft hum of electronics and their breathing.

“Sometimes,” Tony finally answered, hoping Clint would know it was an answer and accept it as such without further question. Tony didn’t like discussing his migraines and the resulting issues he tended to have or why he got them so often. He’d never even actually told Rhodey and Pepper had only gotten it out of him when he’d been drugged during one said migraine.

“Have you ever tried massages? Natasha says they help when she has headaches.” Tony tensed at the question. Every muscle in his body went stiff and his head throbbed in response. Hie heart jumped in panic in his chest, beating painfully against the weight of the arc reactor as Tony worked to draw a breath without hyperventilating.

A massage was the last thing in the world he wanted or needed. Massages had never made a migraine better and had only ever managed to make him puke his guts up for the rest of the day. It had been his dad’s idea and when Tony had been younger, he’d been willing to do almost anything to to feel better. It had taken three masseurs and a trip to the hospital for his parents to finally realize massages were not the answer to their son’s migraines. Now when anyone mentioned a massage,  Tony had a silent panic attack and usually excused himself from the room so he could calm down. Now, he had no escape route he could take without looking more crazy than what people already thought he was, not that Tony cared, but escaping meant he would have to actually get off the couch and walk. Two things he wasn’t sure he could manage on his own right now.

It took a moment for Tony to calm down enough to force out a strained ‘no’ and by then Clint was no longer touching him. Tony took a couple of deep breaths, using the way his chest pressed against the arc reactor as a way to ground himself.

“Sorry,” he murmured as he shifted over on his back. He threw an arm over his eyes out of habit even though the room was dark except for the tiny light on the electronics in the kitchen and the TV. Clint had to shift a little to make more room on the couch, but Tony’s side was still pressed against the small of Clint’s back.

“No massages, then.” Tony could hear the smile in his voice, but under it was concern. “Okay, let’s get you to bed then.” Tony grunted in argument against this new plan, but Clint was already sliding his arms under Tony’s shoulders and pulling him into a sitting position. Even with his eyes closed, the world spun around him and Tony suddenly felt nauseous.

“Shit, sorry,” Clint apologized as he wrapped his arms around Tony to keep him from falling back over. Tony would have told him it was okay, but he still felt like he was going to cover the living room floor in stomach acid. They sat there for a moment until the world stopped spinning and Tony’s stomach stopped trying to force it’s empty contents back up his esophagus.

“Okay,” Tony finally whispered, indicating to Clint that he thought he might be able to stand.

The trip to Tony’s bedroom took twice as long as it usually did. Tony leaned heavily against Clint the whole time and JARVIS dimmed the lights for them as they went without having to be asked. When they finally made it to Tony’s room, Clint lead him to the bed and Tony gratefully flopped down. He sank into the mattress, thankful for JARVIS’s sense to not turn on any of the lights on Tony’s level of the tower. He didn’t know if he could be any more proud of his AI.

Tony listened to Clint move around in the bathroom. Clint moved around in the dark like he had night vision. Nothing less could be expected of a high level government assassin. When Clint returned to the bedroom, he sat two things on the bedside table. Tony whined in protest as Clint urged him over onto his back. The fever had set in and he felt like he was one fire. His head throbbed in time with his heart beat. It was like a set of bongo drums in his head.

“Can you sit up?” Clint’s soft voice was loud in the silence of the bedroom. Tony didn’t bother with a verbal answer. It took less effort to grip Clint by the arm and shift himself up against the headboard. He still hadn’t bothered to open his eyes, preferring not to risk any amount of light sending a spike of pain through his head.

Clint pressed a small pill against his lips and Tony accepted it without comment. He reached up to hold the glass of water when Clint followed the pill with it. Tony drank half the glass and the pressed it back at Clint, who took it from him. Neither of them said anything as laid back on top of the comforter on his bed, not needing any more heat than what his body was already creating.

He expected Clint to leave him alone now that he was in bed, medicine in his system, but instead of leaving, Clint settled down on the bed beside him. Tony didn’t protest as Clint pulled him close in the darkness, an arm around his waist and one hand finding its way back into his hair. Tony allowed the touch, allowing himself a comfort he never had before when he’d been in this state.

It didn’t take long for whatever Clint had given him to kick in. WIthin minutes, Tony could feel sleep creeping in and the pounding in his head was letting up enough he thought he might actually fall asleep instead of drifting on the edges of it like he usually did when he was sick. He wondered where Clint had found the medicine he’d given Tony, since Tony didn’t keep medication in his bedroom. He’d have to remember to ask. In the morning.

 


End file.
